Imperfect Reflection
by AnnaGandalf
Summary: A sudden death brings an abrupt change to life at 221B Baker Street.
1. Introductions

**Introductions**

John Watson's life had been peaceful, relatively speaking, since the _incident_ with Moriarty at the swimming pool. It had only taken a couple of weeks of Sherlock being fixated on finding Moriarty, for the detective to declare himself bored, and order John to find him some new, more exciting cases.

The duo had been on a few cases, but much to Sherlock's dislike, they had never rated higher than a six on his unexplained scale. The criminal world had simply gone quiet. John had tried to explain to his best friend that this was a good thing, but Sherlock had refused to agree, just repeating his proclamation of boredom.

The last two weeks had been so uneventful that the detective had nearly destroyed 221B Baker Street, with all of his experiments spreading through out the flat, seemingly cluttering every available surface. John had tried to clear up after the detective, but had given up, he swore that Sherlock managed to make more mess in an hour, than he could in a month.

Without an influx of cases keeping him busy John had been spending his time volunteering at a nearby clinic, it was only simple things, but it kept his medical knowledge up to date and was better than sitting around the flat not doing anything.

The doctor was on his way back from a shift now, it was late and he had just popped into Sainsbury's to pick up some essentials; milk, butter, etc. ensuring everything was in suitable sealed containers, to prevent any of the less usual things currently inhabiting his fridge from contaminating them.

Having lived with Sherlock Holmes for a considerable length of time, John was fully aware of many of the detective's odd habits, and was prepared for a lot of things when entering the flat. More times than he could remember he had entered to find Sherlock clearly talking to no-one but himself, but Sherlock was always adamant, it was in fact John he was talking to, even though he had been out for hours.

However he was not expecting to see Sherlock standing in the living room of the flat, staring at a small child, no older than six or seven, who was sat on the sofa, staring back.

"Sherlock," John asked hesitantly. "Who is this?"

"Tommy." Sherlock replied curtly.

"Okay." John said, slowly placing the bags he was carrying on to the floor. "Why is Tommy here?"

At this Sherlock turned to look at John, as if only just properly noticing his arrival. "Edward died." He said quickly, before turning back to continue watching the boy.

For once John didn't think Sherlock was purely trying to be arrogant, attempting to force John to keep asking questions, his friend seemed genuinely, completely distracted. John took the chance to also look towards Tommy; he had short blonde hair, and blue eyes, which the child kept rubbing, he was obviously tired.

"Sherlock, I'm going to need more information than that."

Keeping his eyes fixed on Tommy, Sherlock spoke quickly and calmly. "Edward was a friend from University, my only friend to be precise, five days ago his heart stopped beating due to an undiagnosed cardiac condition, he died. Tommy is his son, Tommy's mother left them he was only 3 months old, she never came back, she has been informed of the new situation but still doesn't want to know. Tommy is also my godson, Edward's will expressed his wish for me to look after Tommy, so I shall."

"Wait a minute Sherlock," John said slowly, still taking in what his best friend had said. "You have a godson?"

"Yes, Tommy." Sherlock replied. Before John could ask he continued. "I used to visit Edward and Tommy every couple of months, we don't live in each other's back pockets John, you don't know everything about me."

"This is quite a big thing for you not to mention Sherlock." John stopped himself. "That's not important, you don't know the first thing about raising a child, are you sure this is best?"

"I have investigated all the other possibilities, this is the only adequate solution. Tommy has no other family that would be happy to look after him, and I do not trust the care system in this country. Besides this, he knows me, apart from his father and teachers, I am the only adult he actually knows." Sherlock finally looked towards John. "Anyway, you'll be here to help."

He hadn't phrased it like a question, but John felt compelled to reply. "Of course Sherlock. But where's he going to stay? This is a two bedroom flat."

"You know I rarely sleep," Sherlock said, a hint of his normal arrogance returning to his demeanour. "He can have my room."

With that Sherlock steeped away from John, towards Tommy.

John watched as the detective knelt down to Tommy's height. "Tommy, do you want to go and have a nap? It's been a long day." John was slightly surprised by how soft Sherlock's voice was, he had never seen him act this way before.

Tommy just nodded in response, and held out his small hand to Sherlock, who after a slight double take took it in his, and led the child the short distance to his new room.

John waited in the living room, allowing himself to sink down into the sofa that Tommy had just vacated, it was so much to take in. No offence to Sherlock, but he couldn't picture his friend as a godfather, let alone a father. He knew he was trying to do what was right though, he had to give him that, and they would make it work, it would take time to sort out and get used to, but they would get there.

John didn't have much experience with children either, having trained as an army doctor, he had done very little paediatric work, but he did have some cousins with kids that he saw occasionally.

He was still considering his limited previous contact with children when Sherlock re-entered the room.

"He's asleep." Sherlock stated simply.

"Good," John replied. "We should probably talk about a few things."

Sherlock muttered his agreement and leaned casually against the desk.

"Okay, so first thing's first, how long have you known Tommy could be coming to live with us?" John was sure it took a reasonable amount of time for things like this to be sorted out, social services didn't just hand children out, no matter the circumstances.

"Four days."

"Bloody hell Sherlock, you didn't think to tell me?"

"I was quite busy John, firstly I had to be sure there was nothing suspicious about Edward's death, then I had to track down Charlotte, Tommy's mother, social services refused to even consider my taking him before his mother was consulted, stupid bureaucracy. Then I had to sit threw multiple interviews to prove I was a responsible adult, the hypocrisy of it all, anyone with half a brain could have seen that the social worker interviewing me was having an affair, the laces on her left shoe made that abundantly clear."

As Sherlock paused to draw breath John swiftly interrupted, he had sat through too many of Sherlock's monologues before. "Okay, you were busy. But there are still many things we need to arrange, how old is he? Do we need to organise a school?"

"He's six and a quarter, born 17th October 2006, 7lb 5oz. As I was going to say, I have already enrolled him at St Justin's, he starts in a week, it was thought that it was appropriate to give him a chance to settle in before he has deal with something else new."

"And have you..." John tried to add, before being cut off by Sherlock.

"And I have registered him at a new doctor's, and dental practice. Also the rest of his things are being brought tomorrow. Edward's cremation is set for Friday, there are just a few details left to finalise, but I shall do that tonight." Sherlock looked at John haughtily. "Is that everything?"

"That's all I can think of at the moment." John stood up from the couch and stretched. "I'm going to bed, I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be busy."

Sherlock watched John head for his room, it really had been a manic few days. He and Edward had been quite close at University, they had shared halls together in their first year and ended up living together for the next three as well. They had not spoken for a couple of years, Edward had been busy starting his career in architecture and Sherlock had begun experimenting with some unconventional methods to cure boredom. It wasn't until after Sherlock was clean again that they got back in contact, Sherlock was pretty sure that was why Edward had actually chosen him as godfather, to give him something else to focus on, he had made it very clear what would happen if Sherlock touched drugs again.

To start with Sherlock had been convinced it was a terrible idea, he hated the idea of being tied to anything, no matter how loosely, but looking back he thought Edward had probably made a good decision. Well he hoped he had.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Well I'm back sooner than I expected, I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of Imperfect Reflection, let me know...  
As some of you already know (anyone that followed any of my other stories), I am not good at updating regularly, sorry about that, but I thought I should tell you sooner rather than later.**

**Also not really sure where this is going to go, but bare with me :-)**

**It's set between the first two series, I'm not going to mention any of series 2 yet, but we'll see... There will be some degree of Sherlolly, but I haven't decided how much yet, sorry for being so vague.**

**I own many things; recent additions include a TARDIS hat and a Tetris alarm clock, however I do not own the Sherlock Holmes world, all rights to Arthur Conan Doyle, Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss.**

**As always DFTBA #believeinsherlock**


	2. Insolence

**Insolence**

Over the next three days Sherlock found himself becoming increasingly frustrated, not with Tommy, but with himself. Tommy was behaving just as expected, he was quiet and reclusive, only speaking if asked a direct question. Sherlock knew that the child was having difficulty sleeping, nightmares he suspected, but Tommy never spoke to his godfather about it, preferring to spend as much time in his room as possible.

Tommy's third day of staying with them was also the day of Edward's funeral, it was a small service, Edward having no family apart from Tommy, some of their friend's from Bristol did make an appearance though, all looking to wish their condolences to Sherlock and Tommy. Sherlock was getting more worried about Tommy, apart from some quiet, polite thank you's, Sherlock was certain that the only time Tommy had spoken was a whispered good bye as the curtains closed around his father's coffin.

When they had returned to 221B Sherlock voiced his concerns to John, who had told him not to worry yet, it was common for children to become withdrawn because of the loss of a loved one. The doctor had even pointed out a similarity between Sherlock and Tommy.

'You refuse to talk to people all the time.' John had said. 'Try to imagine how he's feeling now, he's probably trying to get to grips with all the massive changes in his life.'

Sherlock had just shrugged in response, John could be right, he supposed, the six year old was going through a lot. Sherlock had been thirteen when his father died, and he had been locking himself in his room long before that. His father's death had definitely affected him, but they had never been that close, Mycroft had always been his father's favourite. Edward, on the other hand, had been everything to Tommy, from the dozen times Sherlock had seen them together he had known that.

By the time he'd come to these conclusions it was late, both John and Tommy were asleep. Noiselessly, Sherlock rose from his chair, and made his way to his bedroom, to check on Tommy. The child was curled in a ball in the centre of Sherlock's bed, the covers kicked off. Sherlock walked over and carefully repositioned the duvet over Tommy, and then gently sat down on the bed, next to the sleeping child. The detective could see tear tracks on the boy's cheeks, he lightly stroked Tommy's hair and then quietly left the room.

He would not be sleeping tonight, he had some plans to make. When Tommy had first come to live with them, he had told John it would be fine for the child to have his room, but even then he had known the situation was not ideal. He had come up with a plan however, he just needed to talk to Mrs Hudson about it, there was a perfectly usable flat, 221C, it just needed a bit of work done.

* * *

By mid-afternoon on Saturday Sherlock was suffering, he wanted, he needed, to do something outside of the flat, the only time that he had left during the last four days was for the funeral, he was starting to feel almost claustrophobic. He wished he could just leave, for however brief a time.

There was a slight problem though, John was volunteering all day, and Mrs Hudson had gone for lunch with Mrs Rigby from across the street. It was just him and Tommy left at 221B. He couldn't leave Tommy alone, so the six year old would have to accompany him, it limited his choice of places to go, but he would take what he could get.

After some deliberation Sherlock came to a decision, they could go to St Bart's, kids did trips like that all the time, schools always went to places like that, museums and the like. On top of that Molly Hooper would be there, Sherlock had memorised her schedule years ago, she was the only pathologist at St Bart's that let him do what he wanted, if he paid the right compliment that was. He was sure she would be able to watch Tommy for a while, as he performed some experiment or other.

Happy with his plan, and excited with the prospect of finally doing something different, he quickly went to tell Tommy. As had been the norm over the past few days, Tommy was in his room, Sherlock knocked lightly before entering.

'Tommy, we're going out, you should grab a coat and some things to do.'

'Where are we going?' Tommy asked timidly.

'To see a...um...' Sherlock struggled for how to describe his relationship with Molly to a six year old, he couldn't explain that she was someone he had known for years, who would do practically anything for him, as long as he flattered her first. 'A friend.' He finally decided, that would do, or at least avoid any questions.

'Okay.' Tommy replied, as he slowly got his things together, placing them in a small, blue Lego back pack.

Sherlock waited patiently as Tommy got ready to leave, keeping half an eye on him, and the other on his blackberry, there was an experiment involving cyanide he had been eager to try for a while, but he couldn't quite remember the correct concentrations.

On the cab ride over to the hospital Sherlock tried to point out anything of interest they could see out of the window, like Regent's Park and St Pancreas. Tommy nodded along, but made no attempt to join in, apparently content with watching the world go by.

It took just under twenty minutes to get to the hospital, upon getting out of the cab, Tommy immediately reached and took Sherlock's hand. After a brief look between the boy, and their connected hands, Sherlock accepted it, Tommy looked a bit scared, the detective was sure he'd never been around this many strangers before.

To try to distract Tommy, Sherlock spent the entire of the short walk to the morgue, pointing out people to the child, and explaining how he could tell what job they did. It seemed to work, Tommy looked much more content, but kept a firm grip on Sherlock's hand.

As they entered the morgue Molly immediately looked up. Dr Molly Hooper had always confused Sherlock, since they had first met, just a couple of weeks after she had started at St Bart's, she had seemed enamoured by him. Never before had he seen someone, keep such an interest in another person, especially when it was so obviously not reciprocated. However, it did often give him a distinct advantage.

'New lab coat Molly?' He asked, trying to maintain a charming smile on his face. 'It looks lovely.'

'No.' She replied, stuttering slightly. 'It's my old one actually, the other got ruined by some bile from a rotting intestine.'

'Oh.' Sherlock said, keeping himself from smirking, Molly was so busy trying to hide her blush by staring at her shoes, that she hadn't spotted Tommy, still standing beside him.

He paused, waiting for her to look up, when she didn't he continued speaking. 'So, I'm just going to do a few things in the lab, you can watch Tommy for me, can't you?' As he was talking he casually led Tommy over to Molly's desk, and set the child down on the large, black office chair.

'Wait, Tommy?' Molly asked, a few seconds after he finished, looking up. 'Sherlock, why do you have a child with you?' She had finally seen him.

'Tommy's my godson, he's living with me now.' Sherlock replied, heading for the door.

'Sherlock?' Molly shouted as the detective practically ran out of the door, ignoring her completely. She hurried after him, pushing through the double doors swiftly. 'Sherlock, you can't leave a child alone in a morgue, it's not safe.'

He paused briefly, turning back to look at her. 'I didn't.' He said. 'You did, I left Tommy in the care of an adult, you.' With that he left, quickly leaving the hospital.

Molly sighed with frustration, she had half a mind to follow him, but knew he wouldn't listen, he never did. She headed back to the morgue, debating how to keep the six year old occupied for however long Sherlock took to come back.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Hope you enjoy, let me know :-)**

**DFTBA #believeinsherlock**


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